


Yoga: Eliot's Solution to Seducing Your Roommate

by particularlyexistence



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, M/M, Riding, Teasing, Top Eliot Waugh, Yoga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:10:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/particularlyexistence/pseuds/particularlyexistence
Summary: “Hi. I. Uh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Quentin says, gesturing to Eliot vaguely.God, why couldn’t he be a normal person. He dropped his bag by the door, staunchly trying to focus on anything but Eliot’s ass. Fuck. He’s wearing yoga pants.Eliot, who is currently maintaining a plank pose, blinks over to Quentin and grins. “It’s totally fine,” he shifts out of it, moving into a sitting position to grab his water bottle, “I thought you had class until later.”[queliot week day 3: roommates]





	Yoga: Eliot's Solution to Seducing Your Roommate

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [portraitofemmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/portraitofemmy/pseuds/portraitofemmy) for the general idea for this, as well as beta-ing it and cheering me on as I try to navigate narrative writing again. Y’all should definitely check out every one of her fics for this week, because they are all fucking incredible.
> 
> This takes place in some universe where there’s no magic and also they are roommates. Listen, I don’t have any specific ideas I just wanted to write porn. Though there are inevitably feelings.

“Hi. I. Uh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Quentin says, gesturing to Eliot vaguely. _God_ , why couldn’t he be a normal person. He dropped his bag by the door, staunchly trying to focus on anything but Eliot’s ass. Fuck. He’s wearing yoga pants. 

Eliot, who is currently maintaining a plank pose, blinks over to Quentin and grins. “It’s totally fine,” he shifts out of it, moving into a sitting position to grab his water bottle, “I thought you had class until later.” 

Quentin’s proud of how steady he manages to hold his gaze for how fucking flushed he knows he is. “I told you last night that I’d be back early.” Eliot shrugs and meets his eyes, cheeks flushed for a completely different reason. 

Because he’d been doing yoga. In _those pants_. Fuck. Quentin had been fighting his attraction to Eliot for ages. They were roommates. If _they_ got fucked up one of them would be homeless, which is not very high on Quentin’s to-do list. But Eliot is. _Fuck_.

Eliot pushes himself off the floor, all elegant lines and long limbs, walking over to where Quentin is standing. He gives him a crooked smile, pushing into his space a little, and humming softly. Quentin feels his breath hitch in his throat, squeezing his hands into fists to keep from grabbing onto Eliot’s t-shirt. What was he _doing_? Was this a joke to him? _Haha_ , let’s make Quentin blush.

The one thing that he hadn’t really considered was Eliot backing him into the fucking wall. Like he does now. One hand resting on the wall next to Quentin. Quentin looks up at Eliot, eyes wide, breath coming a little shallow. This is way too much for his brain to handle. God, Eliot is so fucking tall and _oh_ , his hands are so big. Quentin feels so small, pinned under his gaze and Eliot is looking at him like. Well. Kind of like he wants to eat him alive. Oh.

“I. Uh. Eliot. What, uh, what are you doing?” Quentin manages to stutter. _Jesus_. Why is he like this? 

Eliot grins at him at little wider, moving his hand down to curl around his wrist. “You are so fucking cute,” he muses, “Do you know that?” 

Uh. No. Quentin does not know that. In fact, right now he feels pretty awkward and ridiculous, his face hot from the attention. He makes a small noise that may be an answer or is possibly the only thing that his brain can manage right now. He can smell Eliot, with how close they are. The faint smell of sweat, aftershave, and cigarettes. God, it’s so _masculine_ , Quentin kind of just wants to get on his knees in front of Eliot and just. Suck him off. Fucking hell.

It’s almost like Eliot can read him like a book. Which is, frankly, a lot. Eliot releases his wrist and cups his jaw, thumb brushing over Quentin’s lower lip. God, Eliot’s hand just fits so comfortably there. He then realizes that Eliot’s been talking for. At least a little bit. He blinks and shakes his head a little, clearing his throat before stuttering, roughly, “W-What?” 

Eliot laughs softly, not unkindly, pulling back slightly. _Fuck_. Quentin makes an embarrassing noise. _Did he just whine? He cannot be this needy_ , he thinks and blinks up at Eliot. 

“I asked if you want to do something about this,” Eliot gestures between the two of them, “Obviously you think I’m hot as fuck, and that feeling is mutual.” 

Oh. _Oh_.

Quentin just blinks for a moment, trying to fucking process this information. Then, he remembers that there was an actual question that he hadn’t answered, “Yes, fuck, I. Of course I do. But, uh, we really shouldn’t.” 

Eliot cocks his head, “Why?” 

He runs through all of the reasons in his mind. They’re roommates, they’re around each other all the time, if something gets fucked up it’s going to be awkward and terrible, Eliot is one of his best friends and he can’t lose him and - _oh_ , apparently he’s been babbling that out loud. Eliot shushes him gently, some of the playful seductiveness slipping away and a tenderness bubbling up into Eliot’s voice. 

“Q, baby, sweetheart, I don’t want this to ruin anything. I want,” he pauses, “I don’t want to fuck you. Well, no, I do. But I don’t _just_ want to fuck you.” 

Quentin looks at Eliot with wide eyes, hands slowly unclenching from the fists he’d been holding at his sides. “I - what? Really? You want to do,” he gestures ambiguously between the two of them, “Something. Like. What? Date me?” He says the last part with a self conscious laugh.

Eliot gives him a sheepish smile. “Something like that, yeah. If you want, at least.” 

Quentin feels himself nod weakly, hands reaching up to grab gently at Eliot’s soft shirt and tug a little. Not enough to really move Eliot, but just enough to emphasize his point. He’s never really thought Eliot would want that, not just with him but with anyone. Quentin’s definitely thought about it, but he figured that they were just silly fantasies. But apparently, Eliot wants it too. And with him, on top of that.

“Can I kiss you now?” Eliot says, the playful lilt returning to his voice a little. 

_Oh yes, please_ , Quentin thinks. He wants to do so many things with Eliot, but kissing was a very good place to start. Instead of saying anything, Quentin pulls Eliot’s shirt a little harder and pushes up on his toes. Eliot bows his head slightly and presses their lips together, quickly deepening the kiss and licking into his mouth. 

Quentin makes a small, needy noise against Eliot’s mouth and pushes against him a little, gasping as he pulls away for breath. “Can we, um, bed?” His cheeks felt hot - from embarrassment or arousal, he wasn’t quite sure.

Eliot curls a hand around his wrist and tugs gently, heads towards his own room. He pushes the door open and nudges Quentin inside, following close behind him. Eliot’s room is a little bigger than his own. God, his bed has always looked comfortable - big and covered in a thick duvet. He really doesn’t have time to consider anything else in the room before Eliot herds him onto the bed and purposefully falls, balancing himself on his arms above Quentin. 

“Seems like the yoga worked,” Eliot murmurs, ducking his head down to kiss him softly, laughing at Quentin’s small noise of frustration. 

“You were doing it on purpose,” he says, bemused, “I. You could’ve just said something.” 

“I could’ve. But it wouldn’t have been as fun.” 

Quentin scowls, but his eyes clearly betray him. It was funny, if not a little frustrating. Quentin pushes Eliot gently, rolling him onto his back and straddling his hips. And _oh_ , the way Eliot is looking at him makes heat coil low in his abdomen. He rucks Eliot’s t-shirt up, exposing the smooth expanse of his stomach and trails his fingers across the lean muscles under the skin. He feels the way Eliot’s breath hitches a little and he smiles up at him, pushing the shirt up more to remove it completely. Eliot pulls it over his head and tosses it somewhere in the room. They’ll worry about it later. 

He leans down to kiss Eliot again, sliding his hand up from his stomach to his chest, fingers tugging gently on the soft hair there. 

“ _Q_ ,” Eliot groans, low in his throat, against his mouth, “We should. Be naked.” 

Quentin sits back up, still seated on Eliot and tugs his shirt over his head. He tosses it in the direction that Eliot threw his and then considers the pants situation. He pouts a little. He’s going to have to move in order to get their pants off and that is the worst news. 

Eliot notices his face and laughs, “It’s only for a second, baby.”

A second is too long, but Quentin really wants to be skin to skin with Eliot. Begrudgingly, he climbs off of Eliot’s hips, unbuckling his belt and quickly disposing of his jeans. This leaves him in his boxers, which is a much better alternative than the constricting denim of his jeans. He is already really fucking hard, his dick tenting the front of his underwear as he turns back to Eliot. Eliot, who licks his lips, looking like he wants to eat Quentin alive. Again. 

He moves back over to Eliot, leaning down to tug the yoga pants down his hips. Nothing strikes him as out of the ordinary at first, but as he pulls them down he comes to the realization that Eliot isn’t wearing underwear. Mother _fuck_. Eliot laughs and Quentin realizes again that maybe he said that out loud. His cheeks flush a little and he gets the pants out of the way, tossing them to the side with the rest of their clothes. 

Moving back up the bed, he curls a hand around Eliot’s cock and strokes lightly. Fuck. Eliot’s so big. Which, he muses, should be kind of obvious. He’s tall and has the longest fingers Quentin has ever seen. Not to mention, most of the pants he wears are not very subtle. Eliot’s hips fuck up into his fist and Quentin draws his hand away, eyes flicking up to his face. _Fuck_. Eliot’s hazel eyes are blown almost black, his cheeks are pink, and his lips are slightly swollen from the kissing. 

Eliot actually whines a little then, which makes Quentin snort, amused. “How the fuck,” he says, his voice rough and shaking a little with laughter, “were you doing yoga _commando_?”

He studies Eliot’s face for the moment it takes him to answer. Eliot really is lovely, all sharp angles and fair skin. Eliot’s hips shifts, drawing Quentin’s attention to his cock. His cock, which is bobbing against his own stomach, hard and slightly darker than the rest of his skin because of _Quentin_. Fuck.

“I. I wasn’t _really_ doing yoga,” Eliot admits, murmuring, “Honestly, I just wanted to get a reaction out of you.” 

He just blinks at Eliot for a few seconds, feeling overwhelmed. Eliot Waugh had been - what? _Nervous?_ \- about him. About Quentin Coldwater. That was almost laughable, really. He leans up and presses a soft kiss to Eliot’s mouth. “We’re going to talk about this. _Later_ ,” he punctuates the last word by curling his hand around Eliot’s cock again, drawing a moan from his lips. 

There’s a breathy response from Eliot that may be an agreement, as he throws his arm to the side to the bedside table. Tugging the drawer open, he produces a bottle of lube and opens the cap, looking up at Quentin with dark eyes. “You should,” he tugs a little on the waistband of Quentin’s boxers, “Let me touch you.” 

“I wasn’t stopping you,” Quentin quips back, letting Eliot pull him closer and tug the boxers down. He pulls away for a moment to kick them off, returning to Eliot’s side after fumbling a little bit.

“Can I,” Eliot starts, “Use my fingers?” He was looking up at Quentin with dark eyes, clearly very into the idea of making him fall apart.

And, yeah, Quentin really likes that idea too. That sounds like the best idea. Nodding, he leans down and kisses Eliot firmly on the mouth. “ _Please_.” 

The idea of Eliot’s fingers touching him, inside of him, spreading him open and - fuck. Quentin gasps when he feels fingers on his lower back, feels them trailing lower still. He presses himself flush against Eliot’s skin, seeking a hint of friction on his cock. 

Fingers brush against him, right where he wants them, and he whines a little. They’re slick and slightly cool to the touch. Apparently he had missed Eliot squeezing the lube onto them. He whines again, more urgently, and hears Eliot laugh softly. Eliot presses a finger inside of Quentin, who pushes back against his hand, slightly. 

_Fuck_ , that feels good. Quentin tilts his head up to kiss Eliot again, enjoying the hot press of their lips as Eliot begins working him open. He moans against Eliot’s mouth, desperate. It had been a while, since he’d done this. He wasn’t one for casual sex, not really, not always, and most of his intimate encounters with men had been blowjobs or sloppy handjobs. He’d done this before, and really fucking liked it, but it had been some time since he had. He murmurs something to that effect against Eliot’s mouth, punctuating it with another roll of his hips that encouraged him to keep going, _Jesus_. 

In response, Eliot tugs himself free and squeezes more lube onto his fingers. Quentin knows that he’s panting against Eliot’s chest, trying to catch his breath. He bites gently on the expanse of skin under him, moaning as Eliot slowly presses two fingers against, then inside him. God, if two fingers felt like this, what was his _cock_ going to feel like? Quentin already feels like he is burning up from the inside, heat coiling tight in his stomach as he moans nonsense against Eliot’s body. Eliot is murmuring praise as he stretches him, fingers brushing his prostate and startling a louder moan out of Quentin. 

“ _There_ ,” Eliot hums and does it again, leaning down to kiss him as he continues teasing and working him open. 

Quentin doesn’t really know how long Eliot stretches him with two fingers, only knows very clearly when he feels the third slot in alongside them. He gasps, eyelids fluttering closed as he pushes them inside. “ _Eliot_ ,” he breathes out, feeling Eliot crook his fingers just so and brush against his prostate again. 

Squirming against Eliot’s hand, Quentin’s cock brushes against his hip as he whines. Eliot decides that he’s been stretched enough and Quentin is panting more. Eliot removes his fingers and reaches over to the bedside table again to pluck a condom from the drawer. Quentin watches him as he does so, biting his lip with anticipation. 

As he tears open the condom, Eliot looks at him with dark eyes and flushed cheeks. He strokes his cock with Quentin’s eyes on him, watching him intently, before beginning to slide the condom over his shaft. “Ready?” 

Fumbling to help Eliot roll the condom onto his cock, Q nods shakily and murmurs, “Uh-huh,” in reply. Quentin shifts then, straddling Eliot’s hips and rocking them together, another moan bubbling up from his chest. 

Eliot slicks up his cock and Quentin pushes himself up, aligning with Eliot’s dick before slowly lowering himself onto it. He groans, breathy and desperate as he does so, eyes fluttering closed with the stretch. “ _El_ ,” he breathes out, “Fuck.”

Once he seats himself completely on Eliot’s cock he pauses and breathes evenly for a moment, adjusting to the fullness. Eliot is trying not to fuck up into him, watching him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. _Fuck_. Quentin tips his head down slightly, asking silently for a kiss. Eliot responds easily, pushing himself up onto his elbows to press their lips together, licking into his mouth. 

After a moment of pause Quentin rolls his hips slowly, gasping. God, he’s so full. Fuck. Oh god. He’s fucking Eliot. Or, well, Eliot is fucking him. But either way, he is in the other man’s bed with his dick inside of him. Quentin realizes that he must’ve been making a face, maybe a little awestruck, because he hears Eliot laugh, breathlessly. “Everything okay, Q?”

He blinks, shaking out of his daze and nods, leaning down to kiss him again. “It’s just a lot,” he admits, rolling his hips again, “But in a good way.” Eliot fucks his hips up into Quentin, just a little, who gasps in response and curses. 

“God, _fuck_ , Eliot, please.” He’s done this before, sure, but it hadn’t quite felt like this. He feels like a live wire, buzzing with pleasure and the coiling heat in his stomach.

He feels Eliot hands settle on his hips, the broad expanse of them solid against his skin. Eliot fucks up into him, guiding Quentin’s body into a smooth roll to meet his thrusts. Q’s breath catches as Eliot sets the pace, trying to keep his eyes open and on his face; though that’s becoming more difficult as Eliot’s cock brushes against his prostate on almost every thrust. His hips stutter and he gasps when Eliot changes their position so that they’re lying down, Quentin flat on his back with his body on top. 

_Oh_. This angle is much better, especially with how distracted he had been getting while riding Eliot. He moans and pants, curling his arms around Eliot’s neck and pulling him down for a messy kiss. Eliot’s fucking into Quentin in earnest now and he just holds on, gasping when Eliot finds the perfect angle to fuck against his prostate. He feels his cock jump with the sudden wave of pleasure and he fumbles to curl a hand around it, to start touching himself. 

It doesn’t take long for Quentin to start feeling the familiar heat tightening in his stomach and he gasps against Eliot’s mouth, tightening around him and coming between them. Eliot makes a soft sound and keeps fucking him slowly through it, until he is shuddering and moaning “ _Oh_ , Eliot, fuck, come on, fuck me. Want you to come.” 

He wants to feel Eliot come, to hear him, to see his face as he does and he kisses him, murmuring as much against the other man’s mouth. Eliot starts fucking into him again, harder and more deliberately, clearly chasing his own release. Quentin feels loose and relaxed, fucked out and sated as Eliot keeps fucking into him, groaning with increasing desperation. 

Quentin hears the sharp gasp as Eliot hits the edge and he murmurs _filthy_ things as he comes with his face buried against Quentin’s neck, cock pressing fully inside. He pants, brushing a hand through Eliot’s hair as he shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He grunts with discomfort as Eliot pulls out, tosses the condom in the trash can and then collapses next to him on the bed, breathing hard. 

Quentin blinks at Eliot for a moment, laughing when he grabs for him to pull Quentin close. Q wasn’t sure if he’d want to cuddle after, but apparently he did. And Quentin certainly isn’t complaining. He nuzzles against Eliot’s neck, pressing a soft kiss to his throat. It’s quiet for a little while, the loudest thing in the room is their breathing as it settles to normal. It’s comfortable, though, being held against Eliot like this. He feels good, better than he has in a long time and that’s only partially from the orgasm. 

Sighing, he murmurs against Eliot’s skin, “ _Yoga_ , really?” 

He hears Eliot snort, amused, “It worked, didn’t it?”

Which. It did work. But it wasn’t at all necessary, honestly Eliot could have just asked and Quentin probably would have said yes. He says as much as he pulls back, only a little, to look at Eliot’s face. There’s a complicated series of emotions flashing across Eliot’s face and he reaches out, cupping Quentin’s cheek. 

“I can be an idiot sometimes.” 

That. Well that isn’t quite what he expected Eliot to say. He laughs softly, surprised, “Join the club.” 

He leans up then, pressing their lips together into a kiss. This kiss is much softer than the others they had shared today and he feels Eliot relax into it, hand sliding to grip the back of his neck. Grounding.

After a moment, he pulls away slightly and looks at Eliot with a small smile, “So. Should we plan a date then?” 

And Eliot laughs, happy and warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at [saltandpepperbox](https://saltandpepperbox.tumblr.com/) or twitter at sgt_bckybarnes.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)


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